November 12th, 2016 - Sarah Wilson
I’m cleaning the kitchen, my ten-month-old daughter strapped to my chest in a baby carrier that desperately needs washing. My four- and two-year-old boys play on the living room floor, laughing at the Thomas the Tank Engine they’ve sent crashing off their wooden train track. My phone chimes with a text, and I shut off the sink water, drying my hands on a kitchen towel.
My husband had written: Want to go to Alaska?
It’s wish list season for Coast Guard members, and even though we moved to Washington D.C. only four months prior we are gearing up for another move in seven months. Unpacked moving boxes are stacked in corners and no pictures adorn the walls as any shallow roots planted here will be so quickly torn out. Where are we moving? No idea. My husband is active-duty, and we have been discussing the living location we should request next. We aren’t guaranteed our location requests, but we still ask.
When we got hitched, I made him promise that he’d do everything possible to not move to Alaska and Hawaii. Both were simply too far away from our family in Colorado and the distance intimidated me. Five years, three cross-country moves, three kids, and debilitating anxiety later, I consider his words. The moves themselves aren’t awful – I enjoy experiencing new places. But I’m tired from raising young kids while battling wounds from the past and my own mind. And I’m lonely. We’ve not made many friends any of the places we’ve lived and I desperately wish to not feel alone. But only a few days ago, I talked to a Coast Guard acquaintance who recently moved to Alaska. She vividly described the strong communities of Alaska and her kids running free in the mountains or playing in the riverbeds.
Alaska intrigues me. I want a fresh start. The last two years I have struggled so badly with anxiety that I stopped driving. And while it’s getting better, I know one thing…traffic exponentially increases my anxiety. East coast traffic? Specifically D.C. traffic? Yeah, it’s not a great fit. But Alaska….a state with fewer people and no interstates? Sounds appealing.
In my most anxious moments, my husband drives me to hidden pockets of nature nestled in the cities we’ve lived in. And those escapes into nature have been the most healing thing for me – hiking, feeling the sunshine, being on the water. Alaska is a natural paradise, a place where we won’t have to search for mere pockets of tranquility; maybe this wild frontier is exactly what I need to feel more like me, regain perspective, chase new dreams, and raise my children. Maybe these vibrant Alaska communities will welcome me in a way I’ve never experienced and perhaps friendships could be born.
Why not? I text back.
LOL.
I’m serious, I type.
Really? If we ask for this, we will almost certainly move to Alaska. No one else has asked for the job. The Coast Guard will send us.
My daughter starts fussing and I pat her back while making my way out the sliding glass door onto our elevated deck painted a deep red. I am eye level with the mature maples surrounding the house, but my attention is pulled overhead by the whir of a passenger jet descending towards the airport only a few miles away. The boys join me on the deck, waving to the plane. All the while my mind churns. Am I ready for Alaska? Am I ready to start a new life by moving somewhere I had sworn I wouldn’t? Can I face my fears of living so far from family for the benefits found in nature and the hope of building a community?
I take a deep breath and type, Yes.
There is a pause before my husband responds. OK. We’ll talk tonight to make sure, and if we are, we’ll put in our request
The rest of the day I continue taking care of the kids and the house, but my mind never leaves Alaska. I’ve researched the area we would be living in, joined a few Facebook groups to talk to people who live there, and looked up nearby hikes. When my husband comes home, I am even more convinced that we should request this move to the last frontier. We talk for an hour and the conversation centers around the opportunities we’d have in Alaska along with the disadvantages of being so far away from family. While it’s not ideal to be so far from Colorado, we decide it’s not all that different if we live in Alaska versus somewhere along the East or West Coasts. So we open the computer, type our request, and hit send.
Ten years later that one decision changed our lives. We moved to Alaska in the summer of 2017 and we’ve been here since. We have the best community, we love the land, and our three kids call this place home. I still struggle with anxiety, but the nature soothes my soul, I have friends who support me on the good days and bad, and it’s easier for me to drive in a place with minimal traffic.
I won’t say this is our forever home because I’ve learned life is constantly changing in unexpected ways. But no matter what happens, that one decision ten years past changed our lives. “Why not?” was a simple text to send, but it changed the trajectory of our lives by challenging a pre-existing mindset. I’m a creature of habit and I like my comfort zone; but I’ve learned questioning my routines sometimes brings the most necessary and fulfilling changes.
Sarah Wilson has always loved writing, but only recently began to take it seriously. She is currently working on her MFA in Creative Writing through Lindenwood University while also teaching high school creative writing, literature, and English. She lives in Alaska with her husband and three kids.
You can find her at https://sarwilson.substack.com/
